Being In Love With Misery
by r90709456
Summary: *COMPLETED* An angsty little fic from Mirandas POV about love, life, and everything inbetween. Her love for Gordo begins to border obsession as she deals with love, hatred, jealousy, and of course misery and learning to tell the difference.
1. Cover and Conceal

A/N: This is my first Lizzie McGuire fic, so please don't judge to harshly. It's also the most angst I've ever written about, and it's all from Miranda's point of view. Some of the characters are deliberately out of character, so that's not a mistake. There is a lot of Lizzie-bashing in this, so if you love Lizzie or something please don't flame me; I don't actually feel that way it's the way MY Miranda feels. Well, better get on with the story now, Enjoy!  
  
I lay on my bed ans stared, completely mesmerized by the ceiling above my bed. Laying on my bed and memorizing its every crease and curve. I seemed to spend a lot of my time doing this. Just lying still and thinking. Playing my whole life over again in my head and reflecting on how pathetic it all is. My non-mutual love for my best friend, Gordo. And my undeniable hatred for my other best friend Lizzie. Gordo is so unreal, like he's to perfect to even exist. I'm probably imagining him. Probably schizophrenic. That's it, schizophrenic. I'm some fucked up psycho who has convinced herself that her image of perfection exists. I want him so bad it actually, physically, hurts. If I don't have him lying here with me in my arms in the next five seconds I'm going to die, or at least I hope so.  
  
One.  
  
Two.  
  
Three.  
  
Four.  
  
Five.  
  
Damnit. He's not here. And I didn't die. Well that really sucks. I seriously do think I'm going to die if I don't have Gordo for myself in the ridiculously near future. I wonder where he is at this exact moment. Maybe he's lying on his bed staring up at the ceiling too. Maybe he's letting himself wallow in the melodrama that is his life too. Maybe he's thinking of me, too.  
  
*Silence*  
  
I doubt it. Gordo thinking of me right now. It's almost funny. Almost funny meaning really really sad, of course. Gordo will never love poor, pathetic little me. Being in love with me would be like being in love with pure misery. And that's just preposterous. Right now he's probably thinking about Lizzie. Lizzie Lizzie Lizzie. Lizzie McGuire. Explain to me again exactly why I'm best friends with someone whom I hate with every single cell in my body? I never really had any friends outside of her and Gordo, so pure desire not to walk the halls of Hillridge Jounior High alone for the rest of my teen years makes her qualified enough, I guess. If I dumped her I know Gordo would just drop me and focus al his attention on her, take her side and forget I ever existed. I know it. And I couldn't stand not being a part of his life. Let me reiterate he will always be part of my life. I couldn't stand not being a part of his. I don't really know why I hate Lizzie. Maybe it's her flawlessly blonde hair. Or her "innocently pink" lip-gloss. Or all the attention she gets from Gordo. It's like after everything I say he responds by relating it somehow to her. If I say, "I get to go visit my cousin in Florida" he responds with "Lizzie went to Florida once." It's like Lizzie has dominated his thoughts, he's succumbed to her. So far he hasn't said anything about being in love with her or anything like that. If he thinks he's in love with her he doesn't know what love is. He could never be in love with perfect little Lizzie McGuire. Love is what I feel for him, not some stupid little schoolboy crush he has on her. How could anyone be in love with someone whose life revolves around her Saturday afternoon trips to the mall and bitching about her ex-friend Kate, of whom she is insanely jealous with her newfound popularity, therefore not depending on Lizzie for Saturday afternoon trips to the mall anymore, but on people far more elite. I never liked Kate. I knew all of this spite was inside of her all along. The only person I've ever really liked at all was Gordo. Gordo is the reason all of this happened. Gordo is the reason I'm lying here right now, Gordo is the reason for my every movement. And he doesn't even know it. I've always loved him. I just didn't know it for a moment.  
  
"Mija! Time for dinner!" My Carol Brady-like mother called up to me from the stairs, interrupting my pity party. It amazes me how my parents never ask what I'm always doing up there in my room all alone for hours on end. I mean I could be shooting heroine and they wouldn't even know. Then again, they probably wouldn't want to know, it would totally ruin their model- family equilibrium they've imbedded into their minds.  
  
Dinner was tacos, again. You see, my parents didn't actually know how to cook any Mexican food. They were both born and raised in the States, and had only been to Mexico twice in their lives.  
  
I sat down in my usual spot and watched my mother strap my two little brothers into their high chairs. It seemed odd to most people we met that they would have a fourteen year old and then a two and three year old. I guess it took them eleven years to figure out I wasn't going to be enough, and that's usually what I told them, too. They usually muffled up some polite laughter before turning away, having no idea I was totally serious.  
  
"So, Mija, how was school?" My dad looked at me and smiled, trying to be a more "involved" father so my mom would stop nagging him to be one. If he had a say, he would spend all his time watching football in his boxers. I wonder why he ever got married, he seemed so much to prefer the bachelor ideal.  
  
"Good." An A-bomb could have dropped on the school and everyone and everything within a hundred miles have been blown to dust and I was exposed to such high radiation I now have leukemia and I would still say good, it was just that routine.  
  
I turned my attention to my dinner to show I had no more interest in conversation, not that I had any in the first place.  
  
My parents went on chatting about some lady my mom had run into at the grocery store. The way my parents talked it sounded like they were aquantinces who really had nothing to say to each other rather than a married couple. They were supposed to be in love with each other. That idea almost made me laugh. My parents, in love with each other. They hadn't loved each other in years. But they were afraid to leave, afraid to give it up and go somewhere where they would really be happy. They had become to comfortable with each other. At least they had someone waiting for them when they came home, even if it wasn't the supposed "one."  
  
I excused myself from dinner without even saying anything. I got to my bedroom door and stared into my room, everything in it seemed so fake and forced, like a cover for the real me. I could never let anyone see the real me, that would be disastrous. I would be shunned, treated like a freaking leper. I suddenly found comfort in the fact that everything was a cover for the real me, at least no one would be finding out who that was anytime soon.  
  
Maybe I'd let Gordo know who the real me was. If I was really sure he wanted to know. 


	2. More Time to Spend with Lizzie McGiure

Beeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeep.  
  
That damned alarm clock is going off again, bringing me out of my deep sleep. I despise alarm clocks. Their sole purpose it to bring me out of sleep, and sleep is my favorite state to be in. I'm not thinking when I'm sleeping. And the only time I don't have this deep pain, anger, whatever it is, is when I'm not thinking.  
  
The alarm clock takes that away from me. Therefore it must die.  
  
I dreamed of Gordo last night, I have no idea the plot of the dream. I can only remember Gordo's face, and that there was no Lizzie. That's another thing I remember. She wasn't there. What if I got on the bus today and suddenly Lizzie wasn't there? What if I get on the bus only to discover she never really existed? What if my entire life has been a dream up until this point and everything and everyone I know isn't real?  
  
But that'd be the worst thing that could happen, actually. That would mean Gordo wasn't real.  
  
He probably isn't. Here we go, back to the schizophrenia thing. How could he possibly be real? Not even God has the power to put someone like him on earth.  
  
"Mija? Are you getting up or what?" My mother again. She gets up every morning at 6:00 with me, though she's a stay at home mom. I don't know about my dad, he's never been up before I left. I don't know if my mother loves me or not, she might. But then again it could be just because she wants this ideal of perfection of everything, and the perfect mother does things like get up at six for their kids. That's probably it. Who am I kidding, of course that's it.  
  
"Yes mom!" I look over at the clock and realize I've been lying in bed for ten minutes already. I guess I'm just so used to it.  
  
I force myself out of bed and go about the exact same routine I've carried out since fifth grade. Take a shower, get dressed, blow dry my hair, put on makeup, blah blah blah. I have to spend and hour and a half scrubbing and applying just so no one will know what an ugly freak I really am, for that would be the worst thing in the world. No one can ever know what I really look like. I've always been the first one awake at sleepovers so that I can be all primped before anyone else has the chance to open their eyes and graze upon my horrendous face.  
  
I catch the bus without having anything to eat. Then again, I never eat in the mornings. To me the idea of chugging a bowl of whats practically pure sugar at 6:30 in the morning is just plain revolting.  
  
Gordo and Lizzie both have stops before mine, so they are always already sitting together before I join them. They hardly notice me get onto the bus, they're so deep into their own conversation. I can't stand it.  
  
I clear my throat to get them to notice my presense.  
  
"Oh! Hey Miranda." Lizzie scoots over to make room for me, and fails miserably, leaving me about two inches. She's in the middle, with me and Gordo in each side of her. And for that I despise her. I don't know whats sadder, the fact that I hate her or the fact that she shall never know.  
  
"Hey you guys, my birthday is coming up in a few weeks. What should we do?" I, of course, was completely aware that Gordo's birthday was in exactly sixteen days. To Lizzie, though, it was a total newsflash.  
  
"Eeee!" She gave a painfully annoying little screatch that filled the entire bus with its vibration, causeing everyone to turn around, but of course she didn't notice. "Oh My Gosh Miranda! We absolutly have to go shopping this weekend and pick something out for him."  
  
"Sure, sounds. great." That really shoud win the most original adjective of the year award. It wasn't like they wouldn't end up going shopping anyway, and of course Lizzie would just end up buying something for herself in the end and forgetting all about Gordo.  
  
I, on the other hand, would be getting him something far more meaningful than anything shallow little Lizzie McGuire would ever find in a store. That would be the day I tell him I love him, no matter what shit it would cause. No matter what Lizzie would say. I just can't stand him not knowing. I know how he'll react by telling me he doesn't feel the same and then he'll feel all uncomfertable around me and our friendship will be effectivly ruined and I'll probably lose touch with Lizzie in the process and be a loner for the rest of my teen years, but seeing the look on his face would be worth it.  
  
Then again, I probably should get him a regular present, too.  
  
The bus came to a halt as we arrived at Hillridge Jounior High. Lizzie and Gordo had gotten into another discussion about who knows what, and had absent-mindedly forgotten to include me in it. Sucks for me.  
  
We walked off the bus in silence and retreated to our separate classes. We all had a different homeroom, but Lizzie and Gordo had the same second period.  
  
Everything from that point on seemed like a total blur, and I didn't pay a lick of attention in class. All I could think about was how Gordo's birthday would go. What would I say exactly?  
  
Hey Gordo, by the way, I love you.  
  
That's probably exactly how it will go, too.  
  
One thing I hate about school is how uniform it is. Everything is exactly the same as it always is. Every class is exactly 53 minutes, we have exactly four minutes between each class, assemblys are always sixth period on the third to last day of the semester. Unless someone commits suicide or something, then we have an emergency one. But that hasn't happened yet.  
  
Yet's the key word there.  
  
It's bound to happen sometime. Someone's gonna go over the edge soon. Someone won't be able to take it anymore. Someone's gonna endure a little more pain than they can take.  
  
My eyes scan the room, carefully observing each face. Who will it be, I wonder? Whose always been a little off, a little short tempered, a little quite. I've known most of these people since kindergarden, it seemed weird that one of them wouldn't be here at some point.  
  
I know I'm being ridiculous. No ones about to die. It's my stupid love for drama that creates these stupid expectations in my head.  
  
My thoughts were interrupted by the sound of the bell signaling the end of fourth period and the start of lunch. Thank God, finally a time where I don't feel guilty for not paying attention to anything. Contrary to the rest of the school day.  
  
"Hey, Miranda!" Was what I was greeted with the second I stepped outside. It was Gordo for a change, not Lizzie.  
  
And that's just the best thing that can happen.  
  
"Hi!" I said totally casually, as if I wasn't head over heals in love with him almost to the point of obsession. What a sly dog I am.  
  
We grabbed a table before they were all taken and Gordo started talking. "Miranda, I was wondering if I could have your advice on something."  
  
"Shoot." I was both the most confident and most worried person in the world at that second, he might want girl advice. Advice on a girl that's not me. How insensitive would that be! Then again, he doesn't know. He also might want advice on something else. Whatever it was, I needed to know before I exploded from the suspense.  
  
"It's about Lizzie. I sorta. sorta. well, I know this guy." Gordo really is such a pathetic liar.  
  
"Gordo if that's the biggest problem you encounter today then I stongly envy you." I was getting impatient, Lizzie would be here any minute. And I REALLY needed to know what was up.  
  
"Okay okay! Where did this newfound sarcastic edge come from, anyway?" Wow. My love for him was changing my personality? I guess I never was that sarcastic before. I was always more like Lizzie.Oh, what a horrible though. Being the thing I hate most, and Lizzie pretty much represented everything.  
  
"Just go on before I bite your head off."  
  
"Fine. I know this guy, and he sorta.."  
  
I gave him an extremly threatening look as the silence took over.  
  
"likes her. A lot."  
  
My whole world fell apart around my and suddenly I couldn't taste food, here sound, smell scents, anything. My worst nightmare had come true.  
  
The person I was in love with loved the person I hate most in this world.  
  
Isn't that everyone's worst fear? If not, it should be. This was way worse than hieghts or spiders.  
  
I know why he doesn't love me. Being in love with me would be like being in love with misery. There's nothing desireable about me. I wish I had followed through with all that anorexia nonesense earlier, maybe I'd be dead by now. I wish I was dead right now. Actually, nothing would, or could, make me happier than being dead right now. I imagine myself floating on a cloud, being in heaven, dressed in white like an angel and it seems like the most comforting thing in the world, aside from being in Gordo's arms. But I'll never be in Gordo's arms, though I'm sure Lizzie will on numerous occasions.  
  
I know why he loves her. Because she's like pure happiness. Who wouldn't be in love with pure happiness. No one wants to be miserable, everyone wants to be happy. She makes him happy. I make him miserable.  
  
That's the end of it.  
  
I mane everyone miserable. There's no point to me living here anymore. No one would care. I would be doing everyone a favor by dying. Now they won't hace to deal with me anymore. It'd be a breath of fresh air.  
  
More time to spend with Lizzie McGuire. 


	3. Isn't it Ironic, Don't you Think?

A/N: Hey to all! I know some people hate authors notes, and its like "would you please get on with the story now" but I would like to give a personal response to all my reviewers since I love them so very much, and I love it when authors do that. KT The Shimmer Skank: I agree that Miranda angst has been done time and time again, but I hope mine stands out somehow. Thanks for saying I have an interesting concept, but do you think it's too overdone? Like theres a million other stories like it? Give me your honest opinion. Baby-Angel AKA LaLa: I think we ALL love stories on Miranda's perspective. They're just so entertaining. Miranda's a great character with lots of room for the author's imagination to play with her personality. I will update soon, as you requested. Thanks for reviewing! 13itterSweet: Thanks for thinking of me as a great writer! I'm not sure I'm necessarily GREAT, good maybe, but not great yet. I'm glad you like my story! Alastar: Yes, poor, poor Miranda. Once again angst ridden and depressed. We make her suffer for our own amusement, how evil are we? I also love Miranda and Gordo fics, they have a tendency to be so much better than just plain old Lizzie/Gordo stuff. No offense to that stuff of course, some of the best stories on this site are L/G. PS did you get your name from the book The Lightkeepers Daughter? Kris: Thanks for complimenting my work. I will continue as requested. Starcraze: Yes, Miranda angst certainly HAS been done a lot. I'm gonna try and handle it the best I know how, so it doesn't get lost in the sea of all the other Miranda angst. I'm pretty sure she won't try to commit suicide, but will probably contemplate it pretty seriously. I might make her do some other dramatic stuff, but not dying. Someone else will have to go. Nahima Tala: I happy you're enjoying my fic. That's why I write them! Miranda angst stories are definitely some of the best things out there. I hope you keep reading! *S *: I'm sorry it makes you depressed! I don't like depressing people. I will continue, don't worry. I always finish my stories. Love-fool: I'm glad you like it a lot. I enjoy writing it a lot. I will continue ASAP.  
  
And now for what you've all been waiting for...  
  
"Hey guys, whats going on?" An especially happy Lizzie bounced over to us and said. She really makes me sick, does anything bad ever happen in her life? I mean besides going an entire hour without seeing Ethan Craft from twenty feet away.  
  
"Uh..uh. nothing." A very nervous Gordo finally responded.  
  
She'll never be on to him now. Nope. She's TOTALLY clueless, Gordo. Great, now even my thoughts have a sarcastic ring to them. Apparently Gordo doesn't like sarcasm. Well, fuck him. Oh, I'd like to, wouldn't I? Well, I'm not going to live my life according to him anymore. I'm going to live my life the way I want to. Who cares what Gordo thinks? No one! Exactly. He can go marry that blonde bitch for all I care. I won't even show up for their wedding. Nope.  
  
I'm so full of bullshit. Who cares what Gordo thinks? I do. I care about what he thinks more than anyone on this whole poor, pathetic planet. Hell, I lye awake at night wondering what he's thinking.  
  
"Guys, I gotta.go." Now THAT should win the verb of the year contest. You know what? Screw it. They should just give me the English award of the year contest.  
  
I hustled out of there in a hurry and suddenly realized that I had no idea where I was going. Somewhere inside, I thought. Somewhere where all the people aren't. I ran into the bathroom, I was alone.  
  
The solitude was deafening. When I had closed the door none of the sounds of the outside world could get in to intrude upon my misery. I realized I hadn't even looked back to see the expressions on my friends' faces. Friend, enemies, whatever. It didn't matter anymore.  
  
Gordo didn't love me. He only loved happy, cheery little Lizzie McGuire. There was something wrong with me. I looked into the mirror and stared back at myself. I couldn't believe that all the thoughts I my head take place inside the mind of the innocent-looking fourteen-year-old staring back at me.  
  
Innocent looking. I'll never be innocent again. I haven't been innocent for a long, long time. I try and pinpoint the exact moment I lost my innocence, and figure I was never born with it. I've always been spiteful, always been sad, always been unpleasant.  
  
I am the exact image of ugly, I conclude. I bet that when people here the word "ugly" my exact face comes to mind, even if they've never met me. I guess its my hair, or my eyes, or complexion, or something that makes me ugly. I feel like one big, huge, walking collection of imperfections.  
  
I see the toilet in one of the stalls and imagine myself forcing myself to throw up. If I do it enough, I'll get skinnier eventually, I figure. But then I just laugh at myself. I don't have the willpower to start something routine like that. Besides, the only reason I'd probably even do it is just to get attention from Gordo. To make him worry about me, and fret over me. Most of all, just to even get him freaking thinking about me.  
  
And yet I still stand here alone. No ones run after me, no ones concerned about me or even noticed the absence of my presence.  
  
Well, you came in here to be alone, you know. I tell myself. I'm so hypocritical. Sometimes I just wish everything would go away and I could be emotionally numb for the rest of my life.  
  
Whoah, the world suddenly started fading out and everything slowly turned black and I felt my head hit the ground. I couldn't see anymore, and I felt myself slowly falling unconscious. What was going on? I don't know, but I sure hope this is what death is like. Now wouldn't that be ironic?  
  
A/N: Sorry it took so long to update! I have to take this big statewide test this week and last so I've been really tired and busy. Sorry this is a short chapter and not quite as good as the other ones, but I hope you enjoy it anyway. Don't worry, this isn't the last chapter. There is definitely a lot more to come! 


	4. NinetyNine cent Bottles of Nailpolish

Vanessa the Magnificent: Don't worry, Miranda's not about to kill herself. She won't die in this fic, but someone else might.. I'm sorry I've made you wait for more, but I've been impossibly busy lately and haven't had the time to write. Bonjour-french-bread: I definitely think that saying this story reminds you of Secluded and Obscured is a compliment, that's my favorite Lizzie story EVER! Funny-giggler: Whoah, you submitted seven times. Interesting. I totally forgot about the ceiling in the beginning of Secluded and Obscured, so don't think I copied or anything. I'm glad you think my work is original, I try to make it that way and not just like everything else! Funky-pink-high-top: I am so honored that my favorite fanfiction author of all time has taken the effort to review my story! I'm glad that one line stood out to you, writing it stood out for me. It is true, isn't it? I got the inspiration from a real life couple I know. Laine likes you: I think we all love Miranda angst stories. They really are more deep that other stuff, aren't they? I also think Miranda's absolutely gorgeous, but I bet she doesn't think that! We all think we're ugly, but only the vast minority of us is. Kris: Don't worry, the cliffhanger isn't that bad. Thanks for reviewing! Starcraze: I think every adolescent girl can relate to what Miranda going through. I'm getting a lot of the inspiration for what she's going through from my own experiences. Baby-angel AKA LaLa: Thanks for reviewing again! Lizzie does get everything, doesn't she? Have you seen the movie yet. totally unfair what she gets! Serenityblossom: Miranda is also my favorite character. To bad she wasn't in the movie and hasn't been on the show in forever! If she doesn't come back on soon I think we should boycott everything Disney till she comes back, don't you think? Nahima Tali: I also find it hard to imagine Lizzie-angst. I'd like to see some poor, but brave, writer attempt it just to see how it would turn out. I'm sorry for leaving you with a cliffhanger, those are evil!  
  
And now what you've all been waiting for..  
  
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"Mr. and Mrs. Sanchez, we strongly suggest you take your doctor to some sort of counselor or psychologist,"  
  
He keeps on talking, but I'm not listening. I'm too entranced by the potential eighth wonder of the world that is my chipping dark blue nail- polish. I think about switching to black all the time, you know, really expressing my deep, consuming angst but its not like anyone would care anyway, so why should I waist ninety nine cents on a new bottle?  
  
Apparently I fainted in the girls bathroom after Gordo dropped that little bombshell that could easily give Hiroshima a run for its money on me and some eighth grade bimbos found me lying on the ground unconscious and had a screaming fit, as if an unconscious fourteen year old girl was going to hurt them in some way. Total blondes.  
  
I let out a faint laugh at this thought and everyone in the room gives me the evil eye, as if to say "we all hauled our asses in here for fifteen minutes to pretend that we give a shit about your 'emotions' and 'self esteem' just for you so why the hell are you the one laughing?". Any you know what? I bet you ten bucks that's exactly what they were thinking.  
  
The meeting obviously ended when my parents stood up and shook hands with the principal, thanked him for his help (with what, exactly?) and started to leave the room. My backpack and other books were waiting for me right outside the room so I assumed that I would be going home, even though it was only halfway through fifth period. I wondered who had brought me my stuff when I suddenly noticed Lizzie standing just outside the front office.  
  
"Miranda, are you okay? Gordo said."  
  
"I'm fine, Lizzie. I'm going home now though, okay?"  
  
She had hurt look on her face. She was probably thinking, "I was only trying to help!"  
  
Boo freaking hoo.  
  
Who cared about what Lizzie was trying to do or not? Who cared what Gordo said or what she saw or what she was concerned about? No one. No one cared about what Lizzie McGuire was thinking or feeling right now.  
  
And, with that thought, walking out to the car with my parents in silence, I felt better than I had for a long, long time.  
  
"What are you smiling about? Was this all a plan to get out of school early?" My mother looked at me and said sternly. She had me sort of taken aback there for a minute, all she ever seemed to say to me was "how was your day?" in a sugary-sweet voice that must have taken her years of voice lessons to perfect. Seeing her angry, accusing, showing some freaking emotion other than fakeness was so...  
  
Refreshing, actually, would have to be the right word. Maybe she was human.  
  
"Uh.no. mom." I said flatly. Everything I say to her I say flatly it seems.  
  
"Oh, I'm sorry Mija, you've just got me so worried!" She gave me a light kiss on the cheek and continued walking, with more silence.  
  
She wasn't human after all. A huge major breakthrough in my deluded relationship with my mother was down the drain.  
  
Why the hell am I putting so much thought into one stupid conversation with my mother she probably doesn't even remember? I do that all the time, obsess over things no one else gives a shit about or even bothers to notice.  
  
I, Miranda Sanchez, don't think normally. I don't. Honestly. No one else thinks about stupid little offhand comments people make while walking out to the car for days on end. I swear, some little offhand comments have shaped my whole life.  
  
And, as I sat in the backseat of my parents station wagon in silence looking out the window at the exact some town that I've grown so familiar with to a degree that only comes with time I decide something.  
  
I am going to tell Gordo I love him today. Today, May 8, 2003 is going to be a day to record in my little blue fluffy diary, because today is the day my life either begins or ends. Gordo'll get to decide.  
  
I keep playing that sentence over and over in my head "I'm going to tell Gordo I love him today, I'm going to tell Gordo I love him today," until I get home where I can really contemplate it.  
  
Finally we pull into our freshly-leaf-blown driveway and I thrust open the door so that I may lock my self in my room for hours on end and stare up at the ceiling, except this time I really have something to think about.  
  
I plop myself down on my un-made bed and contemplate what it would be like to tell him. I was going to tell him on his birthday, but screw that. Today would be such a better day.  
  
I'm half excited half terrified. You know, there really isn't that much difference between being excited and being terrified. As I lay on my bed the terrifying factor begins to take over.  
  
I know in my heart that he loves Lizzie, now. He doesn't love me. He never will, doesn't, and never has. Telling him will do nothing but ruin my friendship with him AND Lizzie (though I wouldn't really mind having Lizzie out of my life for good) and I'll probably publicly humiliate myself in front of the person I love most in this world and end up having to leave the country, but its just a risk I'll have to take.  
  
"Why do I do these kind of things to myself?" I ask out loud, not caring who hears me. I mean I know its going to end badly. I know I'm just going to fuck up my life more than it already is, why can't I resist the temptation?  
  
I'm just not that strong. I'm setting myself up for the worst pain of my life, and doing it totally and utterly out of my plan too.  
  
"Well Miranda, I dare you to find one person out of the billions on this earth who actually, truly, genuinely gives a shit." I say out loud again, and must I really explain about the not caring who hears thing again?  
  
I glance at the clock out of habit, 2:45. I decide I'm going to tell him at exactly 6:45, in exactly four hours. Me, Lizzie, and him usually talk at about seven, so I know he won't be on the other line with her while I'm spilling out my heart and soul to him.  
  
I stare up at the ceiling, waiting with all my life for four hours to pass. 


	5. Connections

Nahima Tala: Sorry about all the cliffhangers, I don't mean to torture you! Thanks for reviewing again, I love reviews! And yes, she is going to tell him very soon. Read on. Baby-Angel aka LaLa: I liked the LMM too but I thought it was way unrealistic. Lizzie McGuire used to be a really realistic show that I could relate to but now its getting kind of ridiculous. Never been kissed: Thanks for the review! I will keep it coming, don't worry. Funky pink high top: I'm so glad that I'm one of your favorite fanfiction people! Miranda stories are the best, they just have a tendency to be so much better and deeper than others. Kate stories rock too. Starcraze: You'll find out what happens when she spills her guts very soon. Don't fret!  
  
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6:44  
  
My body tenses up as the clock moves one more number. Less than sixty seconds left until my life crumbles right in front of my eyes at my own (preventable) fault. I imagine where he is right now, probably doing his homework at his desk in the corner of his room, or playing video games in the basement in the dark. I wonder if he's expecting a phone call in exactly one minute. I wonder if he's expecting me to be in love with him. I wonder if he's expecting me to screw up three people's lives out of pure selfishness in one minute.  
  
Oh my gosh.  
  
6:45  
  
Just as I reach my hand for the phone, it rings. Damnit. How weird.  
  
"Hello?" I say in an irritated tone, this person is interrupting something important!  
  
"Miranda? It's Gordo."  
  
What the heck. How did that happen?  
  
For some reason, the idea that he was calling to tell me he loves me went through my mind. Ha. That is really funny. And wouldn't that be odd? We both had exactly the same idea, but he got to the phone faster. Great minds think alike.  
  
"Hello? Are you still there?" He asks. Whoah, I totally forgot I was still in contact with him.  
  
"Yah, I'm here." I say as if he just asked a totally stupid and pointless question.  
  
"I wanted to talk to you about something."  
  
"Well duh, that's usually why people call other people"  
  
"I was really worried about you today."  
  
Oh my gosh, for once in my life he said something to me without mentioning Lizzie. That really is cause for a celebration. And even better, he was saying something about being concerned with ME. Meaning that he has spent some time thinking about ME, meaning that at that one split second I was occupying his thoughts, not Lizzie.  
  
"So was Lizzie."  
  
Damnit. I should have known that was going to happen.  
  
"What exactly happened?" He sounded more politely interested than truly concerned. I guessed he was most likely playing video games or doing homework while he was talking to me.  
  
"I love you, Gordo."  
  
That, was by far, the single most random statement ever made. I felt like I was being crushed by a huge tsunami and a huge weight had been taken off my chest. Now things would never be the same, never again would I see color, taste food, or hear music the same way. Everything seemed surreal and fake, like I was in a dream or something. It feels like time has speed up and is standing still at the same time, I can't tell the difference, for neither has ever happened.  
  
"What.what do you mean?"  
  
You know, for the smartest person I have ever met and most likely ever will Gordo could be a real dumbass sometimes.  
  
"I love you, is what I mean Gordo. You're unlike everyone I've ever met. When I see you walking down the hall its like everything else suddenly is blurred and you are the only thing I can see clearly. It like somehow you haven't succumbed to this.. I can't even describe it, mental state that everyone else in the world has including myself, you've managed to stay different. You're the only thing in the world that makes sense to me Gordo. The only time I know who I am is when I'm with you, and when I'm away I forget and I struggle and struggle to remember but I just can't no matter how close I get but then I'm with you again and its so obvious I can't believe I didn't know. That's what I mean."  
  
A tear rolled down my cheek, it's as if I knew what would be the next words spoken.  
  
"Miranda, I'm sorry but, being in love with you would be like, being in love with misery."  
  
"That's the single most ironic statement I've ever heard." I say through tears. I hear and click and then a dialtone, he hung up. I clock is a glowing bright green and I stare at it as if it's going to help ease the pain or something.  
  
It reads 6:50. It took me exactly five minutes to achieve the worst pain I've ever felt. Ha, that sounds like a joke.  
  
How many Miranda Sanchez's does it take to screw up her life in five minutes?  
  
One!!!  
  
So what if it's not very funny. It doesn't matter. Nothing does anymore. Gordo doesn't love me, he won't remember me when he grows up and he isn't thinking about me right now. I'm not different from everyone he's ever met and theres no difference in what makes sense and what doesn't when he's around me and he knows himself no better in my presence.  
  
"Mija! I need the phone back please!" My mother cuts through the silence with her demanding voice.  
  
"Whatever!" I yell back at her. Maybe I should cut her some slack, she doesn't know what just happened.  
  
No one does. Except Gordo and me of course. I smile, I find pleasure in the fact that we share something no one else knows, at least for now. He'll probably go telling Lizzie, but for this brief second, Gordo and me know something no one else does, and with that, we have a connection.  
  
How fucking pathetic. 


	6. The Strangest Night of My Life

Belle: I'm glad you think my story is good. I think we all feel Miranda's pain, we've all gone through something similar, unless, you know, someone here is freakishly lucky. Mrs. Wood-Felton: I didn't really mean for Gordo to be cruel, just more, honest to a fault. Thanks for reviewing! Starcraze: I'm glad you liked the chapter. I just thought Gordos line about "being in love with misery" would be sort of ironic. Baby Angel AKA LaLa: OMG I don't think we should be complaining about the movie anymore..DID YOU KNOW THEY'RE CANCELING LIZZIE MCGUIRE!! I literally screamed. First Mirandas gone and then.Oh well, maybe we'll get a spin-off or something. Love fool: Thanks for reviewing. Gordo is being heartless, isn't he? Funky pink high top: Ahhh. my favorite fanfiction person. It's been so fun talking with you on aim and getting your opinions on stuff! Sorry I haven't updated in a while. Nahima Tala: Yes, he actually said that. Mean, isn't it? I'm glad you like it angsty, that's how I love to write it! Vanessa the Magnificent: Thanks for reviewing! I'm glad you don't think my story is ordinary. In the words if Angela Hays from American Beauty "there is nothing worse in life than being ordinary." @@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@  
  
You want to know something that really confuses me? I mean honestly, no matter how many years of pondering I endure, will be able to contemplate? The fact that I see color the same. Taste food the same. Hear music the same way. It doesn't make me a little bit angrier or a little bit sadder, it's exactly the same. The difference is inside of me, not in the outside world. The way I feel is different, not the way the world is. For some reason I expected everything in the physical world to suddenly turn upside down or something, but now I realize that was a selfish expectation, as if my life somehow affects the laws of physics.  
  
What is different though, is that this feeling of anger and misery growing inside of me has just had a growth spurt, and is worse than ever before. I catch a glimpse of myself in the mirror that hangs just above my dresser and feel nothing but hatred for the face staring back at me. It suddenly looks inferior and trivial, it's very hard to describe. Like somewhere out there someone is laughing at me, thinking "how could she ever think someone could be in love with her?" And then laughing hysterically as if it were the most obscured concept ever thought up.  
  
And it was. How could anyone ever love me? Gordo had summed it up perfectly, "being in love with you would be like being in love with misery." So true, so true. Theres nothing special about me, I possess no unique qualities. I'm just simply living my life, trying to get it over with.  
  
God, I need to stop thinking. Thinking is bad, it gets me nothing but depressed. Sometimes I wonder if I should just learn to love being depressed, I seem to be it so much might as well learn to live with it.  
  
I turn on the TV and watch reruns of Friends for endless hours of the night, but everything seems surreal, like I'm watching everything through a glass cage and nothing can quite touch me, I'm separated from everything and not a part of it.  
  
Eventually I notice tears streaming down my face, at exactly what I'm not sure. I think its just the whole concept of my life, my uninvolved father, my Carol Brady wannabe mother who really didn't give a shit whether I lived or died as long as I didn't get blood on the carpet in the process, Lizzie and how everything about her and her stupid little life is so perfect and yet she has no damned appreciation for it whatsoever and my interminable jealousy over it.  
  
And then there was Gordo. He seemed the most surreal of all. It truly is hard to believe even God has the power to put someone like him on earth, he's so perfect, he makes all the other guys a blur and he's the only thing I can see clearly anymore.  
  
I'm sobbing now, uncontrollably. It's like sobbing numbs the pain but not enough to make me stop. I see the alarm clock on my bedside table, the very same alarm clock that waked me up every morning so that I can go live out this hell. Suddenly I am very angry at it, as if it's this inanimate objects fault I'm living like this. I pick it up and chuck it against the wall with all my force, and its like this tension built up that was only released when I threw it.  
  
Suddenly everything's quite, and the clocks still ticking. But I don't care this time. It doesn't matter.  
  
Suddenly theres a knock at my door. I don't answer it, I've suddenly become to physically exhausted to move.  
  
Whoever it is knocks again. They aren't going to leave without a fight. "Come in." I manage to spit out, I know that if I talk I'm going to start crying again.  
  
My mother opens the door, with tears in her eyes. I'm confused about what she's upset over, I hadn't heard an argument going on downstairs or anything.  
  
Suddenly I start sobbing again, right in front of my mother I haven't had anything that resembled a relationship with in years as if she were my best friend. She sits down on my bed and hugs me tightly and I bury myself in her chest. She's crying to, but softly. I finally build up the nerve to ask her why.  
  
"What..What." I stop, I can't breathe from the crying and it takes me a second to catch my breathe. "Are you crying about?"  
  
"Mija, I miss you! I hear you up hear in your room crying and I have no idea why." She's crying harder now, but she's still no match for me. "You don't tell me anything anymore. You are always in your room, and only Lord knows what you're doing up hear. You hate me, and I don't know why. It's like you've created your own little world and you just won't let me be a part of it, no matter how badly I want to."  
  
She said the last words quietly, like she was confessing a secret that had been bottled up inside her for years. In a way, I think she felt that she was. She didn't want to admit that she wanted to be a part of my world, because it would be like admitting she wasn't. But suddenly, I wanted her to be a part of my world. It's like I had her personality totally wrong, she did care about me and not just whether other people thought she did or not, she did think about me and not in the way you think about a leaky facet you have to fix when you get home from work. I wanted to tell her about Gordo and Lizzie and what had happened that night, and as I looked at her, mascara running down her cheeks in black streaks, I could tell she really wanted to know. I wanted her to know; I wanted to have the kind of deep, serious discussions with her I had only had with Kate; back before.she changed. But I couldn't tell her for some reason, I just couldn't grant her wish.  
  
"Mom, I don't hate you." It was a true-lie. I didn't hate her right now, but I used to. I realized I had hated her recently. I didn't want to talk to her and I didn't want her to be a part of my world and I didn't want to be connected to her. But now I did, and I was going to pretend like that's all that mattered.  
  
"Oh, Mija." She hugged me tighter before finally letting go. She stood up to leave the room, but she turned back to me right before she was about to step out of the room. "I love you, you always knew that, right?"  
  
I decided to tell the truth this time. "No, I didn't always know that. But I do now."  
  
I couldn't judge by the look on her face whether this was good or bad news, so all she did was leave and shut the door behind her.  
  
As I found myself alone once again, surrounded by deafening silence, everything that just happened seemed surreal. Like I can't quite convince myself that it was real. Suddenly I got the urge to do something strange.  
  
I stood up and walked over to the corner of my room where why wooden jewelry box was, the one I never open and just sits collecting dust. I opened the top to reveal an assortment of colors and shapes I hadn't seen for years, but I didn't have time to sort through it. I was looking for something inparticular.  
  
Suddenly my eyes found it. It was a ring, silver with a fake diamond on it. It was a friendship ring I bought with Kate in the third grade, she had one exactly like it. Kate was my best friend up until sixth grade, when she dramatically changed for the worse. Kate, Lizzie, and I had all been a group of friends, but Kate and me had always been closer than either of us was to Lizzie, but we never let her know that. As I stare at the ring, I remember about how she was the only person I ever felt I could truly trust, and in a way, she still was. The old Kate was, the old Kate is still the best friend I'd ever had, and no one could match up to it.  
  
I put the ring on the table, not bothering to put it back in the box, and with conflicting emotions of peace and stress, crawl under my sheets and go to sleep. 


	7. Decisions, Decisions, Life Changing Deci...

Funkypinkhightop: thanks for being the only one who reviewed the last chapter!! I guess that's my fault..for not updating in nearly a month. I'm glad you like this story. @@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@  
  
My eyes opened involuntarily, but were immediently shut again to block out the glare from the newly risen sun. I had just woken up from the single deepest sleep of my life. I turned away from the window, and pried open my eyelids. Wow, I actually woke up before the alarm. Has that ever happened before? Not that I can recall.  
  
I had an emotional hangover from the night before, all the thoughts and memory flooded my head. Gordo, my mother, the ring, everything suddenly cluttered my mind and battled for the forefront of my thoughts. I wanted nothing more than to just forget everything that had happened, it was just too much emotion to deal with.  
  
I couldn't think about it when I'm sleeping, I guess, but it was much too late to go back to sleep. I'd just end up being ten thousand times more tired. I could here my mom clinking around in the kitchen trying to get breakfast ready without making enough noise to wake up my sisters, a task she pulled off four mornings out of five.  
  
I realized, for the first time, that I had never helped my mother make breakfast. I was perfectly capable, but the thought just never occurred to me. I felt like a selfish ungrateful brat as a wave of guilt flushed over me. I had an excess of time this morning, I decided that I better help her.  
  
I made the short walk down the stares, anticipating the look on her face when I asked her if there was anything I could do. Would she be annoyed that I was interrupting her normal routine? Would she keel over in tears of joy that I was finally acting like I appreciated all I did for her? Would she even care?  
  
Before I knew it I was standing in the kitchen doorway, my mother hadn't noticed me yet. She was extremely preoccupied with trying to find the right pan to cook eggs with, it was like she was in her own little world that I was too nervous to break.  
  
"Um, mom, is there anything I can do, to, you know, help you. With breakfast, that is." Ha, I did have the courage to get her attention.  
  
I couldn't quite decode the look on her face, it was a mixture of reactions. But there was relief, oddly, definitely relief. "Oh sure, Mija! You can start by reminding me where the pan I always fry eggs in is at."  
  
The ghost of last nights conversation hung in the air as I reminded her she had placed it in the top cupboard, but we didn't speak much except to ask petty questions and for her to assign me my next task.  
  
I did what I was advised in an emotionless daze, not quite ready to know what emotion I was feeling at the moment. I knew someone would have to mention what happened last night, but I prayed that it wouldn't be me. I knew in my heart it would end up being my duty, but can't I live in denial for just a little while?  
  
Eventually we finished, and we started transporting our creations to the table. Everything seemed different for some reason, maybe because now I knew the story of how everything gets on my plate, the plate that I don't touch every morning. A pang of guilt rushes through me, she waked up every morning to cook for this family and I don't even notice.  
  
We sit down, and then I know I'm going to have to say something. She's done enough for me already. "So mom, did you really mean everything you said last night?" I said it slowly, as if giving my self a chance to decide whether I wanted to go on in-between each word.  
  
She stared my straight in the eyes, as if I had just brought up something as random as the ideals of Chinese socialism. 'Well, honey, um." Suddenly a blood-curling scream cut through the anticipation and tension, one of my siblings had woken up. My mother jumped from the table and I was left all alone in the dining room, left to contemplate everything.  
  
Suddenly I felt angry, angry at my sister for interrupting the conversation, angry at my mom for responding to her crying, though I completely understood how a mother needs to respond to her babies cry.  
  
I quickly finished what was left on my plate and carried out my normal routine, as if nothing had ever happened. It felt so odd, it was like the first ordinary thing that had happened in twenty four hours.  
  
I sat at the bus stop, hoping and praying with every cell in my body that by some unearthly amount of luck on my part that arsonists had burned down the school overnight and now school was cancelled until they rebuilt it, but my hopes were squashed when I heard the bus come rolling down the road to greet me, fully loaded with Gordos and Lizzies alike.  
  
The bus stopped in front of me and the doors swung upon. I held my breath as I walked the wimpy three steps up to the isle. The same familiar faces that had been there every morning since I could remember where staring back at me. I took a deep breath and walked down the isle, past Claire and Kate's sneers, past Larry doing who knows what disgusting thing, and even past Lizzie and Gordos spot. I could see them looking up at me with faces of half sympathy and faces of half "it was bound to happen sometime" thoughts. I didn't sit next to them, I didn't talk to them, I walked by and took an empty seat towards the back, all to myself. Suddenly it was like I was seeing everyone from a whole new light, I had never seen them from this angle before. It seemed strange, like I had never seen this side if them before. I could make out much more of Kate and Claire's conversation, while I would never again have any idea what Larry was talking about.  
  
I had not even noticed we had stopped again before a girl I had never seen before sat next to me. She was African-American, with curly black hair I was instantaneously jealous of, but in a good way.  
  
"Hi, I'm Melinda. Do you mind if I sit here?" Her voice was polite, but not fake. The best combination, I decided right then and there.  
  
"Sure, I don't mind at all." I turned back to staring out the window again, getting lost in my own thoughts. Deciding, then and there, that I was going to be all right.  
  
A/N: That's the end of the story!! It was shorter than I'd planned, but I was getting a craving to concentrate on some other stories. I hope you liked it! Read and Review. 


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